


Service Is Its Own Reward

by Marzi



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Ableism, Biting, Disabled Character, Eugenics, F/M, Institutional Racism, Masochism, Miraluka (Star Wars), Racism, Sith, Tags TBA, alien sith, erotic asphyxiation, imbalance of power, no kink negotiation we die in bed like the beginning of a bad CSI episode, probably not going to be as hard as the tags make it but they are there for a reason, unhealthy relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: Malavai Quinn has always put service before himself, and the depths of that are about to be tested. And Vette? Vette just wants to stay alive.
Relationships: Malavai Quinn/Female Sith Warrior
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	1. The Best

**Author's Note:**

> Color me a bit surprised there aren't a million and one fics for this pair with this title, but hey, I'll take it. Been playing a lot of SWTOR while the world is in lockdown, so like, fuck it, write fanfic, right? While I ran the particular toon whose name I'm borrowing for this as a pure LS!Warrior, in the wonderful world of 'I can do whatever the fuck I want because I'm writing it' things are definitely going to be more muddled, and I felt like exploring what making yourself a better person would be like when you were basically raised by a bunch of evil fucking space nazis. Looking at you specifically Quinn, you bastard (I love you but really bro). I also use fuck and kriff interchangeably because it reads to me like someone saying 'bleep bleep you fucking bleep' which is just hilarious.

Vette had been in a lot of fucked up situations in her (not that long) life. Being buried in a Sith tomb on Korriban had jumped straight to the top of the list (very, very near the top at least- the whole born into slavery and separated from her family thing she had to live with her whole life after all). She was pretty sure the malfunctioning shock collar around her neck was the only reason she was forced to stay conscious while she slowly suffocated.

Kriffing Sith apprentices. Absolute fucking dumb-asses, the lot of them. Couldn't wait five seconds for an ancient passage in a tomb to open up, oh no, had to make things go faster. Get them both buried alive. Well, Vette was alive. She was pretty sure the dampness on her thigh was the former-idiot's brains, or she had pissed herself during the collapse and not realized.

When the rocks started shifting, she didn't think it was a good sign, and when she saw the teeth, well, then she knew it was over. Maybe the klor slug wiggling its way through the rubble to eat her face off would at least fry itself on the shock collar still sending the current along her skin.

Great consolation prize, right?

Except it wasn't a slug. Good thing, right? Sort of.

She was pulled from the mess, coughing and wheezing, shocks from the collar making her muscles twitch and hindering her release. She got out in the end, and it _was_ brains not piss on her thigh. Vette: 1, Apprentice: 0.

Her rescuer was tall, broad, and had a fucking mouth for eyes. Alright, that wasn't right, but the fleshy, leather covering with its numerous needly spines (actual teeth?) over her eyes certainly looked like a damn mouth.

“The twi'lek slave?”

It occurred to Vette that there was a genuine question in her voice. The covering wasn't over her eyes then, it was over the spot where most species _had_ eyes. She could lie, but... “Who wants to know?” Her voice was rough from all the sand she had swallowed.

The woman reached forward, grabbed the collar around Vette's neck with her armored hand, and after one last painful zap, it tumbled to the sandy tomb floor. “You know the way through to the chamber.”

Vette looked down at the collar, and past her rescuer towards the twisting corridors, full of klor slugs and a lot of young Sith apprentices out for blood. “Right this way.” She turned back to the cave in, crawling on to the larger rocks, and stomping perhaps a bit more than necessary on the large chunks that had buried the idiot who had brought her out here in the first place.

When they eventually left the tomb, Vette followed. It wasn't like she had anything better to do. The Sith's short black hair stuck up at funny angles due to their trek and her fighting off slugs. It was almost adorable if she didn't have the stature of a sandcrawler, her intimidating size warning Vette to bite her tongue for once in her life. Plus, y'know, _Sith_. As long as she stayed close to her rescuer's shadow, none of the overseers, soldiers, or apprentices paid her any mind. The life of a slave, invisible, so long as you were obedient. Her hand came up to the empty spot around her neck. She could run, but to where? The contacts that had gotten her here had to be long gone or dead by now, and the betraying shits had been the reason for her being in this mess in the first place. Once back inside the academy walls, she could not help but think she had walked straight back to her cage, and future execution.

She wasn't led back to the prison. She ended up in front of a holo terminal. Well, her rescuer was in front of the terminal, Vette kind of just stayed awkwardly to the side while the call was placed.

Someone named Tremel had apparently been naughty, even by Sith standards. Apparently her rescuer had taken care of the matter. Apparently the cave in had wrapped up the other loose end she had been sent to cut. Getting the artifact from the chamber Vette had nearly died exploring was just an added bonus. Whoopee.

“Keep the slave as a reward for a job well done, apprentice.”

The woman tilted her head, as if it was an odd statement. As if 'of course she was going to keep her' was the answer. As if 'I already had' had been implicit in her bringing her to this meeting. She bowed, eventually, and the masked Sith ended the holocall.

“Uh.” For all the dust in her throat, Vette couldn't recall the last time she had been as quiet as she had on the trek to this room. What the fuck were you supposed to say when a Sith saved your life?

The woman turned and looked at her. Or did whatever the equivalent of looking was when you didn't have eyes.

“So uh, that concludes Twi'lek Star Hidden Sights of Korriban Tours for today.” Vette clapped her hands together and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Do you have much experience on Korriban?”

Was she being serious? She didn't sound anything but curious, but was she... was she smiling? The twitches of the little red tattoos above her brow were easier to watch than her dark painted lips. She was smiling. Like the not-teeth coming at her through the rocks, Vette wasn't really sure that was a good thing. “Uh... not really.”

“A pity.” One of her hands still held the recovered relic she had been showing her master, and she tucked it under her purple robes.

“I've been other places.” Was she trying to impress this person? No. She just desperately needed to be seen as useful, so as not to get killed.

“Would you like to go to a few more?”

Vette laughed, it cracked with nerves. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Um... who are you?” The trek through the sand and ruins might have been a better place to ask, but she had been busy keeping away from klor slugs. She wasn't armed with lightsabers, unlike her new... whatever.

“Hara'nitra.”

“Oh. That miralukan for something?” If she had the gift of anything, it was babbling, and it had finally returned to her after its impromptu absence.

“No.”

She clapped her hands together again in the awkward silence that followed, unable to keep still for long. Well, it was awkward for her, Hara'nitra just kept looking without eyes at her. “Well I'm Vette.”

“Is that twi'lek for something?”

Did... did a Sith just crack a joke? Vette was still shaking coming down from adrenaline and her near death experience, but this time when she laughed, her voice didn't crack. “No.”

She tilted her head in concession, a more notable smile on her face now, and a few more wisps of hair flopped from their natural part to jut out nonsensically in the air. “There is a shuttle waiting for us.”

“Right. I'll be behind you, uh... you know I'm not about to start calling you master and what not. Right?” Attempting to use her name was way too fucking weird, but she wasn't about to get all brown nosey either. And Sith loved it when you bowed and scraped. The shock collar happy warden and the dead apprentice had, at any rate. It was important to see just how bad things could get before she put herself in close quarters with this woman for an extended period of time.

Yet her statement earned her a very severe and easy to read frown, that Vette somehow figured wasn't directed at her insolence. What was this Sith and sending the most confusing signals? Alright, the signals weren't confusing, it was the context of them coming from a _Sith_ that were absolutely maddening.

“Ownership of another is a weakness. It is a profession of a lack of strength.”

Had she suffocated in that collapse and died? Was she hallucinating? Was this all some elaborate joke? When she followed her out of the door, was she about to get a bag thrown over her head and beaten to death?

“Partners.” Hara'nitra offered her hand, though it hadn't sounded much like a question. It was the same hand that had pulled her out of the rubble.

What the fuck had she ended up in now? Well, if she was about to die, she might as well die with hope. “That's the best offer I've heard all week.” Vette shook.

* * *

The best was never human. Malavai had discovered that quickly. The clubs most officers visited on shore leave truly only varied by name. Whoring and gambling being about the only thing those off ship bonded over, he had attended several clubs with groups prior to his disgrace. When someone wanted to boast, flash money, or give you a recommendation, it was for the best. The best gambling halls were run by Hutts, and the most expensive whores were never human.

It was a discrepancy in the Empire's standards that Malavai had been forced to live with his whole life. He understood there was a factor of taboo that tended to heighten arousal, but it was dismaying to see it in action. And as far as his research and personal experiences went, there wasn't enough difference to justify the price hike. Besides, where was the pride in humanity that was supposed to serve as the backbone for the Empire?

Luckily clubs were absent on Balmorra, a relief for him and a source of much gripping for the other soldiers. Not that Malavai had spent the long years of his banishment bereft of company. There had been a pilot for a civilian supplier who appreciated his private bunk whenever the man came into port every seven to ten weeks, at least until Lucien's marriage. It had been an acceptable outlet, and one that let him avoid the drama his fellow officers engaged in by fucking each other. Plus, whenever there was a venereal disease outbreak on the base, it was about impossible to track where it started. Best to avoid the whole mess altogether.

Things had gotten lax on Balmorra. The soldiers engaged in behavior that was worth a reprimand on any other command, and was simply another week day on this mud ball. Things were stagnant here, after so many fruitless years of fighting, and morale was considerably low as a result.

Malavai kept to routine, kept to protocol, exacted standards on those under his command, lest he become one of those listless fools moaning about the lack of available twi'lek cunt, for something better than what the Empire was currently offering its people here. For something to be better, they had to make it better. The people here seemed to have forgotten that along the way. Some days, he feared he would too.

The endless struggle to remain sane and focused while on Balmorra was made somewhat easier by Darth Baras' most recent transmission. He was to act as liaison to his apprentice while she conducted business here for her master. What that business was wasn't Malavai's to know, but his mind was hungry for stimulation, for purpose, and he readily poured himself into the task. He simply needed to prepare everything required for the assignment, not ask why it was happening.

(If he didn't know full operational details, how was he supposed to prevent disaster, as he had at Druckenwell?

That wasn't his job. That was why he was here, on Balmorra.)

He kept his briefing notes and research limited to what had been asked of him, and hungrily awaited the apprentice's arrival. Baras had given him very little information on what to expect once she arrived. Sith tended to be very difficult not to notice, so he was unconcerned with the vagueries. He did have a name though, and a ship's transponder signature to look out for. When she docked, word was sent ahead of her.

  
Hara'nitra. The naming convention was of a culture he was unfamiliar with. Whatever the origin, he only needed to call her my lord, to avoid tripping over any of the syllables. While his diction had been complimented in the past, Malavai knew better than to take any chances with a commanding officer's name or title. Particularly that of a Sith.

He was in the middle of berating a subordinate when she arrived, or he might have more quickly noticed the shift in the room. The curiosity, the confusion, the stillness.  
  
She was older than most apprentices. He could tell that much, even in spite of her somewhat covered features. There were likely many things which contributed to that, but above them all, being alien had to wield the most weight to her slow rise in rank. A miraluka. That was... unexpected.  
  
For a moment, past the initial hidden disgust, after the briefest assessment (larger than most human women, though he could admit to himself that he did not know the statistics for miralukans, no spiked adornments on her attire like other Sith he had seen- her natural size enough of a warning, a somewhat drab purple robe over body armor that flashed into view at the cuffs and hem- almost giving off an innocuous aura that was the antithesis of her order's being), he recognized something familiar in her. Someone cast off, unwanted, plucked up by Baras and given the chance to crawl towards glory. Not that he would ever imply Sith crawled. Malavai doubted he would ever see such kinship reflected from himself in another Sith, not that it would be acknowledged with this one.

“My lord.” He bowed, because in this scenario, she was his better.


	2. Operation Breaking Point

Malavai had offered her the use of his barracks as a formality, it hadn't been his intention that she actually be quartered there. Taking the arms factory was to be the fruit of a long campaign though, which meant she was staying planet side for the foreseeable future. He could not rescind his offer, nor was Hara'nitra a particularly difficult bunk mate, but it was an arrangement that grew increasingly... distracting.

It hadn't taken him long to suss out the reason she had taken him up on the offer. Staying aboard her ship was a waste of resources as well as an inefficient use of time, and none of the other barracks had offered her space. That was a ridiculous slight against a Sith, but an acceptable one to an alien. She could threaten to tell her master that the authority on Sobrik was being uncooperative, but that would mean admitting she was incapable of handling the situation. Of course, if word got back to Baras that someone was disrespecting his apprentice with such impunity, it was a slight against him, and showing such disrespect to a Darth would never be forgiven. It was a balancing act of insolent behaviors and posturing. Malavai had given her an acceptable work around that would hopefully prevent anyone from losing face or their life, though he had done so unintentionally. It was all a frustrating example of ineffective pettiness that could hinder operational success, but he was not in a position to be able to curb his fellow soldiers' behaviors. ( _something on your mind, lieutenant?_ , a captain, several years his junior, liked to grin when he said that, waiting for the day that Malavai would in fact, say something)

He had managed one exchange with Hara'nitra where he had admitted that he found the lack of focus on the matter at hand a detriment to her continued assistance, but he wasn't sure how she took that information. She was a rather difficult woman to read, and not just because of the covering over her eyes (a stretch of teeth jutting from what he assumed was some kind of hide that rather unnervingly reminded him of the throat of a sarlacc).

The truth of the matter was, despite the arrangement, the two of them were rarely in the same place at the same time since she had taken it upon herself to assist with Operation Breaking Point. Which gave him little chance to make first hand observations. Yet her presence lingered in his quarters, providing some strange shadowy afterimage of her habits. He had ten years to become intimately acquainted with the barracks, which meant any change, no matter how minuscule, was easy to detect. Lucien had left a singular sock behind once, and Malavai had it posted back to his transport. Lucien had thought it was adorable. Malavai had considered his interest in wearing mismatched socks so that he always had the posted one on his foot when they met up a little irritating.

The things she left behind couldn't be sent off on a transport though. The smell of her, for one. Not that it was unpleasant or particularly alien, but it was persistent and not him. Malavai had to hot bunk it once before in his career, during his training, when one of the barracks had flooded and the recruits were made to share until the repairs had gone through. At least the doubling of bodies in his private room wasn't nearly as stifling as going from fifteen to thirty men in one dorm. Still, his sheets never felt right, too hot or too cold depending on what he had been expecting from his knowledge of her schedule, and his pillow didn't sit right under his head, either.

While everything in his quarters was to regulation and stowed properly, there were now empty spaces he found it difficult to walk through, simply knowing they were places where she kept her things when she occupied the room. There was an armor maintenance kit above his locker, out of the way and correctly sealed, that was a constant, weighty beacon drawing his eye because it wasn't his.

And then there was Vette. Created solely it seemed, to frustrate him. She wore no collar, but rarely left Hara'nitra's side. Most accounted her as a slave, she attended to the Sith with an alertness that belayed intense training or frequent electrocutions. Yet she commented, freely and unhindered, on all proceedings she was included in. She even murmured incessant, secret remarks towards her (probable) master during briefings, and when those giving them attempted to show their displeasure, Hara'nitra countermanded them to get on with it. As if the twi'lek's lips weren't practically settled on her ear the whole time.

It was unnerving.

It was also considerably easier to focus his frustrations on a twi'lek than a Sith. He was thankful he never found Vette sleeping in his bunk, though given her closeness with Hara'nitra, Malavai couldn't help but wonder if she was. If a Sith was sleeping with her slave, that wasn't his concern. The sheets never smelled of sex, anyway, just _her._

He didn't need distractions now, he needed work. Which, for the first time in a long time, was more than a list of needed repairs and casualty reports.

The miraluka, apart from a few initial slurs slung around before it was confirmed that she was truly a Sith, had actually brought something remarkable to Balmorra's war torn surface. Hope. Where she walked, battle lines were redrawn. It was invigorating to review the base's reports on troop movement and activity, where in the past it had been one more stone attempting to weigh him down. Balmorra was changing because of her, after being bogged down for years. The information gathered from his observations and the observations of others frequently resulted in him having to change his understanding of her. He had informed her of such, after her first few successes on the surface of the planet. A part of him had wondered then if Balmorra had not simply lowered his expectations of everybody, but no, it seemed she was quite singular.

Having to constantly update his predictions about her effectiveness meant he considered her more frequently than he had anyone in years, not to mention more thoroughly than he had bothered with anyone in a long time. Putting his thoughts for her together in a way that made them about work at least allowed him the chance to claim productivity during his... assessments.

Work, indeed. If only that agent he had been tracking would pop up out of whatever hole they had burrowed into, then he would really be making progress. The agent had obviously fallen into some sort of holding pattern, waiting for the Commander or Hara'ntira to make the next move.

Malavai settled at his desk, leaving a portion of its corner empty. It was the place he noted she set out her things when she was using the space. She was a remarkably fastidious woman (despite the appearance of her hair), which he appreciated. If only the neat lines of her routine weren't steadily bleeding over his, muddying his thoughts and perceptions.

* * *

For all the gangs, thefts, and piracy Vette had been a part of in her life, she had spent remarkably little time around bounty hunters. Sure, she could sort of say she was one, but a handful of contract assassinations really didn't count. Mandalorians had rules and stuff, after all. Vette had rules about killing people (and not killing people, bounty hunters were also known for taking live targets as much as dead ones) but they weren't Mando rules.

The guy might not be a part of that enclave, but he seemed way too kitted out to be just some run of the mill mercenary. He was also a cathar (almost as tall as Hara and definitely a little wider around the middle), and while Vette knew she was hardly in a position to judge an alien for assisting the Empire, a part of her still did. The fact he was also openly hitting on a Sith really didn't make her feel anything nice about him either.

Darth Lachris was creepy. Pale skin veined with corruption, with intense make-up that sort of highlighted those features rather than try to hide them. Vette supposed they were a badge of.. well, probably not honor, but whatever the Sith equivalent was. (not for the first time she wondered if underneath Hara's eye mask, those some dark lines would show.)

Lachris for her part, seemed very into the cathar's advances. Which, just, _ew._

After leaving Korriban, Vette and Hara had stopped at Vaiken before heading on to Dromund Kaas. While Hara's status as Sith offered her some deference, her status as _alien_ clearly drew a lot of scorn. Scorn and, the same sort of gross acquiescence Lachris was giving the cathar. _Oh how exotic, how strange, how bold_ , it made Vette want to vomit. That sort of stuff made her want to gag even without all the extra Sith creepiness in general, but still.

At least on Vaiken Hara had brushed off all the attention and simply went about purchasing a pair of blasters for Vette. (When Hara had presented them to her and Vette had said 'my favorite', Hara had said, 'of course' as if it hadn't been a question she had never asked. She was kriffing weird sometimes, but at least it was a kind of weird that was helping her, not killing her.)

The cathar was eating up Lacrhis' responses though, and Vette couldn't help but wonder if, no matter where they went, non-humans would always be whoring themselves out. He was clearly some kind of merc, Mando or no, he was getting paid to kill people, he didn't need to do what he was doing. Unless he genuinely liked those ham-handed responses coming from someone who could kill him. Alright, there was something almost funny in that, but everything else was so twisted up Vette really didn't want to laugh.

Hara didn't seem to care one way or another what Lachris and the cathar got up to, she was just here to make sure the full scale assault against the factory was finally ready. _It will be a useful diversion for my mission,_ as if showing up here and rolling out sweeping victories for the Empire against the resistance was just some after thought. Vette had begun to fantasize about setting her loose on Ryloth, though her mind got murky quickly as to who that would really benefit in the end. After all, Baras' order of 'take out the Commander and his people' had apparently translated to Hara as _march an army into the arms factory and take out everyone there._

No one could ever make the claim Hara wasn't thorough.

Lachris was keen to shoo them out of her office, no doubt eager to get her private affairs underway. For a moment, when her attention was on them rather than the big cathar behind her, Vette thought she saw fear in his eyes. Had the Darth done something to him? Were they about to walk away and leave them alone when-? Oh kriff, she really was going to puke now- but... no, that wasn't right. He wasn't quite scared, no, more nervous, and only when he looked at Hara.

When her partner bowed and turned to leave, Vette was more than eager to mash the call for the elevator so they could get out of the office. (partner yeah right, it had taken quite a bit for Vette to realize she actually did have some use to Hara, but even then, _partner_ really stretched credibility)

She took a deep breath once they were out of the elevator and back on the main floor of the base. “ _Saggy Sith tits,_ I am so glad you aren't like that.” Her outburst earned her a few stares from the soldiers nearby, but none of them were going to comment. Not while Hara was next to her.

“Like what?”

“All... _euugh_.”

Hara took her vocalization in stride, which Vette appreciated. She had yet to come across a word that meant what _eugh_ meant, and not having to explain that or what _blerrghg_ or _blech_ meant when telling a story really helped to keep moving things along. Hara had so far only ever asked for one clarification in all of Vette's vocalizing, regarding 'eyyoot', not sure if it was meant to replicate the sound of a siren or indicate a good situation gone bad, to which Vette had solemnly informed her it meant both.

“We bunking here before the big blast fest tomorrow?” Constantly flying over an active war zone only ever heightened Vette's awareness that the odds of them _not_ getting shot down would eventually give way to the odds of them _definitely_ getting shot down.

“Sobrik. This will be our only assault on the factory, we will need Lieutenant Quinn to finish our objective there.”

And since their objective was all hush hush, they couldn't strategize over holo. “Wonderful.” Vette liked to spend as little time as possible in that man's rather sterile bedchambers. Once people had become sufficiently terrified of Hara, and thus unwilling to harm Vette, she had located herself a berth in the civilian quarters above the cantina. Being in a broom closet sized room was more bearable when surrounded by people not in uniform. Not to mention every time she woke up from a cat nap in Quinn's quarters after helping Hara with something, she kept expecting Lieutenant Death Eyes himself to be standing over her, knife at her throat. It wasn't very conducive towards her beauty sleep. Quinn hadn't been the worst of what she'd dealt with on base, but she knew disdain when she saw it.

His habit of incorporating statistics into nearly every conversation also made her want to put a blaster to her skull. It was no wonder she hadn't found anything interesting when she had gone through his desk. Hara's rather amused advice towards all her snooping had been to check under his mattress. Vette had definitely not checked under his mattress after that, because if Hara had told her to do it, odds were too great there was something there, and she suddenly didn't want to know what Stick Up His Butt was hiding from the public. (and under a mattress too, even his hiding place was dull)

Before they made it to the speeder to head back, Hara actually took out her holocom to inform him of their return.

After the connection was established and his image appeared, he bowed. “My lord.”

Vette rolled her eyes. Fucking boot lick.

“Lieutenant. I will be at Sobrik shortly. Prepare a briefing on our target's last known location.”

“At once, my lord.”

When the call ended, Vette sighed. “He does the full bow. Every time.”

“Really?” The edge of her mouth curled in a smile.

“Eugh.” She regretted ever mentioning it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, my tag for this chapter was going to be 'Quinn and Balmorra get fucked' but when I was properly re-working this story into something more cohesive, I realized with the way I had decided to format things/the POVs I had picked, I should probably spend a bit more time with Hara before I had her fuck anyone...  
> Also, let me just say I am always frustrated with how pointlessly straight the base game is, and as far as I can recall, when you do flirt with Lachris as a non-human, she does make a creepy comment about you being exotic? bc that kind of shit is totally fine in a game, but somehow letting someone be gay is too much... *has to stop self from dating Lana with every female toon*


	3. The Foreseeable Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and I had an Argument. The chapter won. But here we are, so I suppose I also sort of won.

While still on Vaiken, Vette had done her best to figure her chances of just hopping on a transport and hoping she ended up somewhere where getting back to Nar Shadda wouldn't be impossible. She didn't have the power to literally crush people with her fist though, which meant pretty much anyone could throw a collar around her neck the moment it looked like Hara wasn't her escort. It had been a weird test of resolve for her. She had thought she had given up showing Imps she was scared a long time ago, but there were always more depths to the well of life's fucked up shit. It was also the first moment where she truly had wondered if her new 'partner' was actually capable of keeping her safe. Well, safe in a relative sense.

Hara had somewhat assuaged her paranoia in the station's cantina, and sure, telling Vette her mom had been a slave was practically a fishing expedition of good will, but Vette rather did owe her for saving her life and taking the collar off anyway. For kriff's sake, she had even taken the collar off before she had done anything to her benefit. Though the fact it had been malfunctioning might have played its part in that decision. Benevolence, or pragmatism? Some weird sense of camaraderie considering their families' history with slavery? How the fuck was she supposed to know? When she had asked how her mom was, Hara had just said 'still alive' and it hadn't sounded like a good thing, so no leads there.

Alone on Balmorra, hopping on a transport bound for neutral space would be significantly easier than from the heart of Imperial territory. Yet Vette walked right by the table where all of the non-humans had congregated together for safety, and went up to her room.

She liked Hara, weirdness aside, or more likely because of, and if the Empire wanted to foot the bill for her robberies, why not let them? There hadn't been a lot of opportunities while on Dromund Kaas to do much of anything, but Hara had told her if she wanted to liberate anything, she was welcome to it. Apparently spelunking in ancient tombs on the capitol world was all the same as tomb raiding on Korriban, as far as Hara was concerned. After the last attempt, Vette honestly wasn't too keen on liberating any Sith artifacts. At least for the time being. Plenty of people had called her stubborn in the past, and if she wanted the fame of robbing the elite of the Empire, she would take it. Just, after the nightmares of suffocating while a bunch of klor slugs ate her abated a bit more.

Like if they would just hurry up and get replaced by the nightmares of crying children clutching explosive-rigged radios. Yeah. Then she could just get back to the robbery and all would be fine and dandy. Fuck. She didn't like sitting in on all those meetings but Hara had needed her, and at least she put explosives in bombs like a sane person. Kids didn't pick up bombs. Well, on Nok Drayen's orders Vette had, but she had known her way around an ignition sequence even at that age.

Trudging around on Dromund Kaas hadn't been as awful as she thought it could be. At least the people Hara had been ordered to deal with there were Imperial, and Vette had no problem watching them squirm when faced with a Sith. There had even been a major slave uprising going on, which Hara claimed she had helped start (on Baras' orders, but still). Early in their trip here, she figured Balmorra wouldn't be a long stop. Get in, do Darth Impatient's work, get out. Yet the longer they stayed here, the more Vette had to contend with the grander scope of what Hara was actually doing for the Empire. Which just made her curl up on her slat of a bed and hug her pillow. She had been through plenty in her life, she just had to ride this out. Do what Hara needed, not think about the rest.

Like idiot kids getting their necks snapped for who their father was. 'He would be dead either way' Hara had said. Vette supposed that was true, but alive was still alive, while dead was... dead. Memories or no. Maybe she should have risked asking Hara to stop by the lab, not for the target, but for her.

So this was the new normal?

Fucking great.

* * *

Hara'nitra had taken her armor off, and even though the robe was the same, it now draped across her body in a completely different manner. The broad width of her shoulders wasn't much changed, but the flat planes of her chest piece were gone, instead showing the softer curves of her breasts. Her boots and gloves were discarded, hands and feet bare. Her form fitted under-suit was easier to see, as her somewhat shabby robe was looser without the bulk of her armor. She had pushed her sleeves out of the way and not bothered to re-cinch the waist, leaving it hanging with a steeper neckline than usual. The thin red tattoo that bisected her chin traveled down her throat and vanished abruptly from sight at the suit's collar. The formfitting material kept very little actual skin from showing, but considering what was normally on top of it, it was a strangely intimate sight.

All in all, Malavai concluded she looked more like someone wrapped up in their favorite bathrobe before their morning caf than a trained killer going over a mission report. He tried not to think about regulation uniforms and being on duty, but if there were regulations on Sith appearances he did not know them. He did however have to revise his estimates on how long it took for her to go from a non-combat state to fully battle ready, based on his new understanding of how she presented herself in a less professional setting.

Was this meeting unprofessional? She had requested it, and when he had arrived at the appointed time he had found her in this state.

The twi'lek wasn't with her, which was welcome, though it couldn't help but beg the question of where she had ended up. Malavai wasn't certain to what extent she might cause harm, but was fully aware of its possibility. Or at the very least, someone causing an incident which would likely result in an irritated Sith if anything happened to the twi'lek. Things were finally shaping up in Sobrik, they didn't need an incident to bring everything crashing down.

Hara'nitra set aside the last report Malavai had prepared for her, and swung the data pad in her other hand idly, as if she had forgotten she was handling an important piece of equipment. How many young officers had he barked at over the years for tossing the things to each other, which inevitably ended up breakages, a pointless loss of equipment and briefings?

The personal data pad she held was modified in some manner, though he hadn't been granted the opportunity to look it over extensively. As far as his attempted covert peaks had told him, a portion of the standard controls had been removed for some kind of touch pad. She left base reports and their pads in the spot on the desk he knew to leave clear, but that one never left her hand. She didn't seem to be referring to it for anything, as she rather impressively had the entirety of their previous scouting reports and known layout of the arms factory memorized.

Malavai kept the projection up for his own benefit, and only partly to see if she would ever slip up in her descriptions of the layout. A part of him knew he should have stepped up to match the standard she was setting, but aside from the old schematics of the factory from before the occupation, he had very little reason to become familiar with the factory's layout. Getting inside had become a more and more distant hope for the forces here as the years dragged on.

Then she had showed up and rightly corrected their focus within a matter of weeks.

It was inspiring, but her being what she was, it was also a reminder that they should all be doing better. The hope she brought so many had arrived to Malavai with a far bit of guilt and anger attached, that they all could have done better if only-

-but no matter. He would do better next time. He might not have the capabilities of a Sith, but that didn't mean it wasn't important to push himself to new standards. Tomorrow would be a decisive day for the Empire, one way or another. They were finally poised to topple the last remnants of the Balmorran resistance.

For a moment, he saw the next ten years of his life stretched out before him. Behind a desk, overseeing droid manufacturing. He would have to start reading up on appropriate specs for overseeing mass military grade robotics production, what could be automated, what they would need engineers for. Training programs for soldiers, and testing to see if they would be worth giving the education to in the first place. If his contribution to the Empire was to be production, then he would do his part to make it the most efficient arms factory they held.

Not that he would ever be granted an impressive administrative position, but he knew the importance of handling raw data. Someone would get those hypothetical future reports. Someone would read them.

(Eventually.

Likely with his name removed.)

Of course, all their recent success has been due to Hara'nitra's direct involvement, and while she was entering the fray with one of the strike forces, she had her own objective. Was her previous influence enough to garner a full Imperial victory, or would the assault fail to follow through without her at its head?

Malavai was a patriot and a professional, he hoped for a full success, regardless of who was spearheading the mission. Rumor was a cathar bounty hunter had been brought in recently, another alien, alongside Hara'nitra, doing what the Empire had promised. And apparently doing it well. For a moment, the gray walls of his barracks were replaced by a different set of nearly identical ones, but there was the rough sound of machines echoing in his ears and the sudden taste of oil on his tongue.

(He would also need to look into appropriate protection against prolonged exposure to the high decibels of heavy machinery. He wouldn't have anyone under his command going deaf while they worked the factory floor.)

He turned off the holoprojector on his desk to give his hand something to do and reminded himself that he was still in Sobrik.

“Something on your mind, Lieutenant?”

Some time into their meeting, the crisp consonants of her accent had faded. It shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, considering her non-human status. It was more than likely she had been born on a non-Imperial world, or at least raised in a community of more mixed heritages. Malavai supposed the truly strange thing about the slip in her accent was that she had apparently decided she didn't need to bother around him.

Was it a sign of familiarity, vulnerability? He was her liaison while she was here, and there was plenty of snickering from other soldiers about her staying in his barracks, did she attribute something to the arrangement? Or did she not consider him worth the effort of maintaining a more Imperial facade? It was a peculiar conundrum, made all the more so by the fact he couldn't place what dialect was causing the shift in her speech. He had done enough traveling during the years of his service prior to arriving on Balmorra to become acquainted with a number of Basic dialects, yet hers eluded him. It was a large galaxy, he knew that there were plenty that he had never heard, but for someone who held the rank she did in the Empire to have crossed into a culture he didn't recognize? Slave quarters and non-human ghettos were more widespread within Imperial space than the Republic or the Empire liked to report, but that didn't mean their influence spread far past their walls.

Of course her odd accent was a passing concern in this particular moment, as he had turned off the projector and indicated the end of their meeting without any say so from her. It was the most disrespectful he had been towards someone in a long time, and he hadn't even intended to.

“I'm sorry, my lord.” He looked away from the datapad in front of him and forced himself to focus on her face.

It was strange to realize how much he took for granted being able to see someone's eyes. All the subtle little things in those features, rapidity of blinks, narrowing, deepening of crows feet, the very direction they cast their gaze, if for just a moment. Even her eyebrows were covered by her mask. Malavai had to review just how many different meanings there were behind a raised brow, since he barely caught it when looking at her face. The tattoos that stretched above her brow and disappeared into her hairline provided a small measure of expression, but in some ways it was as alien as the mask across her eye sockets.

At least he knew the proper etiquette when speaking with someone helmeted, an incomplete face was new territory.

She stopped swinging her data pad and set it on the desk. “You've been forward with your opinions in the past. Is there something about the plan you find lacking?”

She thought he had been frustrated with the debriefing. That was manageable. “No my lord, given Commander Rylon's past actions this is the most viable means of approaching and cornering him.” Why this particular soldier was of such importance to Baras was...

...not his concern.

He had planned all of her ops directly relating to Baras' work here, and even offered support during some of her engagements with the resistance. She hadn't minded some of his more curious comments, but had not provided anymore information than Baras had already granted him.

Her voice cut through his frustrations, and he was glad she did not press him on why he had shut off the holoprojector so abruptly. “You've been on Balmorra a long time. I can tell.”

Malavai liked to think that had to do with his ready knowledge of the area and its combatants, but something in her tone told him she meant something else. Perhaps he would have been better off with her berating him for his rudeness.

“You've left an impression.”

Had those under his command been gossiping? Perhaps he had been too lenient with the non-essential chatter since her arrival. He would need to correct that, if it was the case. “My lord?”

“Like a foxhole dug into a battlefield.”

“Is that so?” Ignoring the comment seemed a mistake, though he wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of it.

She smiled. The matte black lipstick she wore had faded somewhat at the conclusion of the day, and the underlying pink of her lips was easier to detect. “You hate this place.”

Malavai opened his mouth and then carefully closed it. There had been no conversations between the two of them that could not be described as business. Even his initial invitation to use his barracks had been work related. She hadn't had an interest in him beyond his assessments and briefings. The only opinions she had asked of him had been professional. Her bald statement of fact about how he felt about this place was fundamentally jarring, but he found himself taking it in stride.

Yes, he hated it here, but admitting so would get him nothing. In fact, were anyone to hear him say it, the words would inevitably reach those who had sent him here in the first place. He wouldn't grant them any new ounce of pleasure from his suffering.

His hands had tightened into fists without his realizing, so he loosened them. “As you say, my lord.”

“The sex must be phenomenal.”

That statement caused the crushing, bitter thoughts in his head to clear in a bright and sudden spark of shock.

Had she found the datapad Lucien had given him? It contained nothing but holoimages of the man wearing only Malavai's uniform gloves. In truth, it was there under his mattress to be found. Malavai knew it was best to leave something to be discovered so people would stop looking for what really mattered, but it was an atrocious oversight on his part not to consider removing it while she stayed here. (A part of him also always felt a weak stab of guilt that he was not protecting the images, given in confidence, as well as he could)

Did she think he was bitter because he wasn't with his (former) lover? Had this whole line of questioning been some strange jab at his personal life?

Yet her tone wasn't mocking as far as he could detect, it had been oddly complimentary, in a round about way. He supposed a Sith would approve of hatred and the idea of brutal, frustrated fucking. He tried to glean something from her alien face, but even without being able to see her (non-existent) eyes, he could tell she wasn't really paying attention to him anymore. Her hand had gone back to running over her personal data pad, as if she was bored and her fingers had gotten restless.

The silence stretched on as Malavai waited for any other strange truths to come tumbling out of her mouth. He had been assessing her combat capabilities so much in the past few weeks, he wasn't sure how this entire conversation was going to fit into his calculations. Audacity wasn't something he had a lot of practice measuring among fellow soldiers, any biting comments were generally a result of bravado or sullenness, so he wasn't sure what this particular brand of boldness meant coming from her.

She was Sith. He supposed that was it.

“Would that be all, my lord?” She would be out of his life soon, whatever the outcome at the factory tomorrow. He needn't give himself any reason to dwell on this.

“Yes Lieutenant, that's all I require of you this evening.”

He stood, bowed, and headed for the door. Malavai stopped before his hand even reached for the lock. It was quiet here. Even the muffled sound of shells exploding against the force field over the city was muted. There were no machines.

Not yet.

Apparently he had been still longer than he thought, for her voice called out to him. “Was there something else?”

Something else? From him? No. But what of her reasons for being in Baras' service? Had she ground her hatred into something so resolutely others could sense it? Was the sex _phenomenal?_ She would be leaving soon, whatever the outcome of tomorrow's mission. Finding personal information about her was irrelevant to his mission at hand, and it was all data Baras would have anyway.

There wasn't time to go from convenience, to habit, to disappointment. He considered the importance of including references to this conversation in the report he would need to write to Baras once her mission was concluded. The Darth wasn't interested in Malavai, he wanted information on his apprentice. He had debriefed her for the mission in the morning. End paragraph.

He turned back around so that he could see his desk, her back was still to him.

“My lord.”

Something in his tone caught her attention, for her head tilted to the side, and several strands of her hair flopped into the air, providing an accommodating approximation of a perked ear.

He normally wasn't this forward, but the background hum of the resistance shells against the city was beginning to sound an awful lot like heavy machinery, and it had been _two years_ since Lucien.

She stood up, still not turning to face him.

She didn't look smaller when she shrugged off the robe. She looked larger, the clear lines of her physique no longer obscured by soft folds of perhaps, just stark lines of very solid bulk. Malavai had been certain prior to watching her undress that she would be capable of picking him up and breaking him without the use of the Force, but now he was reminded of that fact.

“Put your uniform aside unless you want it replaced.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best idea you've ever had for a one night stand Quinn. You are definitely not going to see this woman again ever once she leaves Balmorra. And clearly her somewhat disaffected attitude towards sex will keep things uncomplicated and you will never over analyze why it was your misery she talked about first. Good job there buddy.
> 
> Anywho, my (original) idea behind this fic was basically 'what if SW and Quinn had sex while on Balmorra' because that is oddly the time I feel they are on the most even footing. I mean, being Sith, the SW is always going to be in a position of power over Quinn, but at least here they are more functionally colleagues under Baras rather than in a direct chain of command. Also, I feel like hitting on him when he isn't in the middle of giving you a public briefing probably would have better results. Not that Hara actually hits on him here so much as states that she thinks he'd be a good lay.
> 
> Another thing I really want to try and play around with in this fic is the contesting ideas in Quinn's head of 'Sith are what I have pledged my life to as they are the beating heart of our empire' and 'aliens are second class citizens', two statements which rather cancel themselves out around Hara and he hasn't really spent the time de-tangling.


	4. Torment Is Good For The Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated rating and tags for this chapter! If you sneeze, I apologize, its been a while since I've written smut and I'm still knocking the dust off everything.

Muscle memory had Malavai working the fasteners of his uniform as he walked towards his wardrobe to hang it up for the evening. The armor kit atop it wasn't as distracting a thing as it had been before. Ten years here, and nearly every article of clothing had been with him the whole time. He briefly considered letting the uniform he was taking off get destroyed, but accounting for its absence wouldn't be worth the small sliver of satisfaction.

Malavai respected his uniform and everything it stood for, but looking at each jacket and knowing how many times he had performed some small patch or replaced a button felt like a swathe of information he wouldn't mind throwing out. To have some part of himself that did more than slowly wear thin and generate a longer and longer bill of repairs. To have something better than what he had been given.

He just had to do it himself.

He didn't take any nightclothes with him as he closed the wardrobe and went to his bed.

Hara'nitra had tattoos. Well, more tattoos than the ones on display on her face. Red, just like the others, but the lines traveling down her inner thighs to her ankles branched like small root clusters, the offshoots occasionally looping back on themselves to form circles or distorted ovals. Her skin was pale, and the dark color of the top she had left on only highlighted that fact. She had left her mask on too, and Malavai wasn't certain if that was soothing or unnerving. At least by this point in time the teeth stretched across her face had become somewhat familiar.

She didn't reach for him until after he joined her on the bed.

Her fingertips were warm, despite having been out of her gloves for some time, and rough with callouses. She started at the edges of his body, hands trailing in a languid, unconcerned manner, pausing only at his jaw where she brushed her knuckles against the stubble gathered there. Given her surprising gentleness, he couldn't help but wonder at her promise of destruction towards his clothing. Perhaps his removing it had prompted her to a softer approach.

As she had left her top on, he was unsure if that meant he wasn't to touch her there or was supposed to take the initiative to remove it himself. His indecision became moot as he instinctively clutched her shoulders to steady himself as her hand trailed down his chest. Her nails weren't long, but he felt something sharp from her fingers as she idly twined them through his chest hair.

He nearly choked on the groan that slid out of his mouth as the heat from her hands suddenly turned to needling jabs of pain. He'd always associated Force lightning with something a little showier, but he wasn't even certain that was what she had done. Something in her touch was oscillating between the ache of a fresh bruise and the dull warmth of a body trying to comfort itself after a hurt. He'd experimented with spankings, belts and the odd improvised paddle in the past, but this was something else.

Malavai hadn't set himself on this course to passively receive her attentions, and it took no internal debate to lean forward and begin running his tongue along the tattoo on her throat. Logically he knew the tattoo would be no different than her flesh, not if it had been done correctly, but a part of him could not help but wonder if she would feel different because she was Sith (as alien was always human enough in the long run). There was just the warm pulse of something living beneath his tongue and the scent that had been haunting him for weeks. She tasted faintly of sweat and the composite alloy that composed her armor.

One of her hands tangled in his hair and pulled him up short before his explorations could make it higher than her jaw. Her other hand had reached his thigh, and his skin ached under her touch, but it was a sweet agony. She pulled his head back, barring his throat, yet her mouth closed on his collarbone. His body rapidly grew hot from the confused and excited buzz of his nerves. She wasn't biting him, yet every slow, deliberate press of her lips hurt. Such careful little agonies that his body was more than happy to respond to.

He whimpered, hips rolling forward, desperate to catch some sort of friction, though it hardly seemed needed with how eager he felt. His hands scrambled across the tightly woven fabric stretched over her shoulders, and each desperate twitch from his body earned him a low, approving hum that seemed to travel down to his bones.

The bed didn't lend itself to a lot of maneuvering with both of them kneeling on it, but when she squeezed his hip it felt like a reminder to stay in place. With her hand still in his hair, his back was arched slightly, that coupled with his barred throat made him feel more exposed than the nudity he had readily presented himself in. Her mouth brushed against his shoulder and it felt like catching embers from sitting too near a fire. Her rough fingers gripped his thigh, not drifting up but still hurting in that impossibly pleasing way--

Well, _fuck_.

It took very little effort for her to get him on his back and drag him to a more central location on the bed beneath her. If her point had been to humiliate him, she had succeeded. His face was hot, and not just from the rushed exertion. Pain was one thing, but if her plan was to mock him...

“Lieutenant.” Hara'nitra's hand slid across his shoulder, thumb brushing against his collarbone before pressing at the hollow of his throat. His heart beat faster as the pressure wavered between exhilarating and terrifying. She didn't sound cruel, or displeased. “We're just getting started.”

“Of-of course, my lord.”

He suddenly found himself with a much closer acquaintance with the tattoos on her thighs. They didn't mirror each other, whatever logic was behind the branching and small whorls didn't preclude itself to repetition. As he lifted himself away from a knee that seemed perfectly capable of cracking his skull open, his lips gave their first kiss to the red line on her left thigh. Smooth and perfect as the line on her throat, but the taste of sweat was nearly drowned out by the heady tang of her cunt.

Apparently making him writhe had worked her into quite the state, a fact which caused some of the tense embarrassment to ease from his muscles. His hands had drawn somewhat uselessly against her top, but with exposed skin he found himself beginning a thorough exploration. She didn't stop him this time.

The occasional roughness of scarring met his fingertips, woven among the strange looping red lines, and beneath that the steady shift of her muscles. His mouth followed lazily behind, teeth flashing occasionally as he considered adding to the already dimpled texture of her inner thighs. A firm squeeze of her ass to help keep her steady as she shifted above him was another reminder that the mass beneath her curves was mostly muscle. She was a powerhouse, in more than one sense of the word, one whose body shuddered as his fingers teased at her slick entrance. He moved his mouth to her other thigh, nipping softly at her skin. She dragged one of her hands through his hair, not stopping or redirecting him.

In a moment of unparalleled boldness, Malavai gave into his impulse and bit her. Anger curled up from his belly as he allowed himself a moment of complete disregard for self-control. He wasn't angry at her, but the very long chain of events which had led to their paths crossing in the first place. She moaned, and for one delirious moment before he convinced himself to let go, he wondered if he should make her bleed. He was too close to properly see the rapidly darkening, perfect indentations of his teeth on her skin, but he could feel them alongside her scars.

He allowed himself a moment to breathe her in before setting his tongue to other tasks. She was incredibly responsive, and some of the sounds she made traveled through his body in such a way he could not help but wonder if it was a sign of distraction or intense concentration that had her using the force while she moaned. He hoped for the former, still determined to make up for his earlier embarrassment.

His fingers stopped their teasing and slid into her. She readily ground against his face as he worked her inside and out, and he considered all the ways breathing wasn't nearly as important as getting this right. His arm was trapped at an odd angle, so he didn't have the maneuverability he would have liked, but for the way she was tugging at his hair, she didn't seem to mind the limited motion. When her body tightened around his fingers, he didn't relent, and that earned him another bone shaking moan.

This was a task he had considerably better endurance for. Still, he had to take his hand back when his wrist began to ache, and the muscles in her thighs twitched beneath his palms. His slick fingers passed over the indentations left from his teeth as he clung to her. His jaw ached, his chin was damp, and being hard again was an afterthought to her taste on his tongue.

Eventually, she shoved his head back until he collided with the mattress, neck and shoulders slowly attempting to relax. He was pleased to note that she took a moment to simply breathe before she sank herself down on his cock. Apparently over stimulation was not something she concerned herself with, or just like his bite, was something she relished.

His hands shook slightly as he rested them on her hips, uncertain if he wanted something grounding him other than the intense warmth gripping him. She placed one palm on his chest, sending out a small burst of needling pain before she began to ride him in earnest.

Even without his fingers having gone through it, her hair looked a mess. Small curls clung to her forehead, and the edges of her mask, while most of it spiked itself this way and that in odd disarray. Her skin was flushed, but somehow the red lines on her face still stood out. Her lipstick was truly gone now, and Malavai realized, likely smeared across his skin. He focused on the fabric stretched across her breasts rather than stare into the teeth of her mask.

He shifted, trying to find purchase with his feet so he could more readily thrust up to meet her. When he found some semblance of a rhythm with her, he suddenly found himself incapable of breathing.

Apparently the gesture of a closed fist was a formality she didn't see fit to use in the moment. Hopefully she was aware of what she was doing. His grip tightened on her hips, mouth working in silent, choking approximations of moans. Dark spots threatened the edges of his vision and still he simply struggled to thrust up and meeting the rolling tide of her hips.

Every sensation was as intense and as sudden as being struck with a stun bolt. The spool of tension low in his belly, the tightness in his balls, the heat of her around his cock. Even as he was rapidly losing his ability to see, everything felt so much more present, as if he was waking up rather than losing consciousness. The thought that he could die here was one he found himself strangely capable of indulging in the moment.

Then a sharp burst of pain traveled through her hand to his chest again, prompting him to suck in a deep breath he suddenly found himself capable of taking. It gave him enough air to shout as he came. His blunt nails dug into her hips, and she rode him through his orgasm.

He was still gasping for breath when she slid off of him, sitting past his feet on the end of the bed. Malavai stared up at his ceiling, prodding curiously at where he was certain concern should have been waiting over what had just happened.

“I'll wake you in an hour.”

If her intent was for him to sleep elsewhere, he saw little reason not to leave right then. Aside from how lightheaded he felt and the very real possibility his legs wouldn't hold him up.

“My lord?” His voice wasn't nearly as hoarse as he expected it to be. Apparently force choking someone left behind less bruises than he had been led to believe. Perhaps it varied from Sith to Sith.

“You aren't leaving just yet, Lieutenant.”

They were just getting started, after all.

* * *

Vette had never seen Hara smile like that before. She had been amused in her company countless times, and she took delight in Vette's rambling stories in her odd, quiet way, but she had never smiled quite like that. Vette was certain she would have noticed if she had. Sure, she had smiled when Toovee had been completed, but not like _that._

After killing Rylon the plan was supposed to be to rejoin the team pursuing Chekketa, but then the lieutenant had called and smothered that. A Jedi had heard and recorded the confession of an Imperial spy. Vette didn't want to even try and think about the implications for the treaty, and how little she honestly cared for the secrets of either side, but the moment the word 'Jedi' had been uttered, Hara had smiled. She couldn't not dwell on that.

It wasn't the bloodthirsty thing Vette had seen on acolytes and overseers on Korriban either. She seemed genuinely thrilled by the news, as if an old friend had holo'd her out of the blue to tell her she had won a bunch of credits and wanted her to have it.

Vette wasn't ever going to get Sith. Jedi were practically their blood sworn enemies, right? So why was Hara acting like a kid on Lifeday? She never had seemed to delight in killing before. Death just sort of seemed to happen around her and she took it in the same stride she took in the slurs towards her species. As if it was beneath her notice. Which was sort of creepy in its own right, but Vette had been around enough people who killed without being killers to know everyone dealt with shit their own way. Not that Hara wasn't a killer....

Ugh. She was thinking herself dizzy with this bullshit.

At least getting out of the factory was easier than getting in, and with so many forces engaged there, the odds of their speeder getting shot down had significantly lowered. At least Vette liked to think so.

The people moving through Sobrik as if it was just another day added a strange tension to their chase. Vette knew the importance of not raising any suspicion, a bloody lesson learned as a slave which she more happily employed as a thief. It wasn't something she generally had to utilize in pursuit of a living person. There was a reason she had taken so few assassination jobs, and why she was as loud as possible in all other aspects of her life. She wasn't sure what Hara's intention with the Jedi even were, but considering she had rallied an army to get to Rylon, it wasn't going to be pretty. Not even accounting for that smile.

Things got quiet as they went deeper into the space port. Quiet in an unnatural way. Things were supposed to be noisy at travel hubs. The more bustling, the better, but Vette supposed if there was about to be a bloody fight between force users, it was likely a good thing there weren't people around. Had the lieutenant ordered them back? Had the Jedi done something?

Vette drew her blasters. Being nervous and armed really wasn't the best combination, but she needed to do something with her hands. Hara hadn't drawn either of her sabers yet, was just moving briskly forward, which meant she was practically jogging to keep up. Of course keeping up in Vette's mind meant staying one step behind, which made it easy to stop short of bumping into Hara when she stopped moving.

A robed figure stood just past the intake scanners, facing several soldiers.

Was this it? Kind of anti-climatic, except Vette didn't see Lieutenant By The Numbers Anywhere. Probably holed up in his office, issuing orders over holo. Then the robed figure simply waved their hand and the soldiers walked away.

Right. Vette had heard about that. Creepy. Her eyes flickered towards Hara, but standing where she was, it was impossible to see her face.

The Jedi pulled down the hood of their robe and turned to face them. She was human, and seemed rather young, but Vette had always imagined Jedi as white haired and weathered from sitting around on rocks all day, meditating. That's what she and the gang used to argue about, what Jedi did in their spare time. Whether or not Jedi had spare time to begin with was also a frequent topic of debate.

“Sith.” There was a strange hesitancy to her words, as if she didn't quite believe what she was saying.

“Jedi.” The hungry eagerness Vette had barely caught in Hara's smile was very clear in her voice.

It seemed to resolve the Jedi somewhat. “You are too late, I have already transmitted the recordings to the Jedi council. Master Karr's suspicions have been confirmed.”

“Irrelevant.”

Really? Then why had they rushed out here? For a lovely chat? Even with her blasters in hand, Vette kept her arms somewhat lamely at her sides. Apparently they weren't escalating things? Maybe? Her heart hammered in her chest. The last time she had been pitted against a force user, she had ended up in a slave collar. Republic or Imperial, the force was a thing she didn't want to feel on her again.

The Jedi raised a hand, Hara's stance shifted and then--

\--Vette was crying. She had never cried so hard in her life (she wouldn't cry like that ever again, hadn't) but right then she couldn't stop. Tivva had just been taken. She was supposed to stay with mamma, quiet and careful as a moth, working in her shadow. No one was supposed to want her, scrawny and young and not pretty. She wasn't Tivva.

But they had come anyway, and they had come in the night. No one had come for her before, not like that. Her mother had always been so careful to keep her daughters pressed up close to her. She had clung tighter after they took Tivva. She hadn't been able to hold on when they came for her little Ce'na.

And she had cried and cried and--

\--Vette sucked in a deep breath, legs shaking before they gave out under her and she collapsed on to her knees. She had been running. That was why her thighs were trembling. She had run and run because they were coming for her like they had before. When she should have been safe with mamma, sleeping at her side.

Her chest ached as she struggled to keep breathing. Had she been yelling? She pressed her knuckles into her eyes, hands aching from how tightly she grip her blasters (she needed to let go of them before she accidentally shot her own fucking lekku off but she couldn't, she needed to keep a hold of _something_ ). She wasn't crying. She hadn't cried like that since she was a little girl. Wouldn't ever again.

She was just so fucking scared.

She heard the pound of approaching boots, she needed to get up, to start running again, but her whole body felt drained, weak, uncooperative. Whoever it was stopped at her side, but Vette didn't look up, just kept trying to breathe past the blasters she had shoved up against her face. She was still shaking, and it wasn't just from her run.

There was noise, like someone talking through a wall of water.

They needed to _fuck off_ Vette wasn't going with anyone anywhere right now, and if they tried to touch her she would shoot them. She could do that now. She had blasters, she wasn't quite so small, even half-collapsed on the ground. She pulled her hands away from her face in time to catch a glimpse of the lieutenant and his troops moving deeper into the space port.

Apparently Vette had almost made it back outside into Sobrik.

As something like clarity returned to her, there was just one thought bouncing around her head. Vette had no idea if it was the Jedi, or Hara who had done this to her.


	5. A Renewal of Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update that didn't take a month, wee !

Sobrik was in a celebratory mood. There weren't exactly people dancing in the streets, but perhaps whatever was happening now was just the Imperial equivalent. Then again, Vette had seen evidence that they did enjoy partying, if the elaborate clubs she caught glimpses of on Dromund Kass meant anything. At least, the Sith did. Maybe the rest of the Empire's citizens had learned to fear a good time. Whatever the case on their home planet, out here, there was a decent amount of carousing happening at the cantina in the wake of their victory over the resistance.

Not that Vette wanted any part of it, but it was a lot easier to hide in a crowd than alone in her room.

She sat at a corner table with two zabrak freighter captains, having exchanged little more than a nod before taking her seat. Just because the humans were celebrating didn't mean they were any safer than they had been earlier in the week. So what if a cathar had been at the head of the charge? They were just as likely to be picked up and knocked off for stealing glory from the Empire's true patriots as they were for helping contribute to their success in the first place.

The fact a Jedi had been killed added an extra flair to the stories going around about the victory at the arms factory. Vette didn't want to hear any of it, not because she mourned the order's loss, but because it just made her think about the other dead Jedi that no one knew about. Well, Quinn and his soldiers did. And Hara, for having killed her. Vette had seen the body get carted off, but hadn't witnessed what actually happened. Had Hara smiled when she'd done it? Maybe it was just the same expression she had seen on overseers while on Korriban. She didn't want it to be.

What kind of idiot did that make her?

Her drink was empty, so she hurried to the bar to get a refill. She had to wait. Typical.

A shadow cast itself over her, and Vette straightened her back and turned to glare at its source. It was the cathar. He leaned against the bar top, unabashedly staring at her. He wasn't leering, Vette knew that look all too well, but studying her. It made her nervous for a completely different reason. His dark fur had subtle stripes to it, she hadn't noticed back in Lachris' office, too much of him had been covered and she honestly hadn't been studying him that closely. The fur on his cheeks and chin had been grown out in the approximation of a bearded goatee, and his eyes were bright yellow. Strangely enough, they didn't remind her of the Sith.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

“I don't believe we were properly introduced before. Drahgur Symphar.” He didn't try and offer his hand. Smart guy.

“Yeah, you seemed kinda busy.” Thinking about that still made her throat a little dry.

He smiled. Cathar had fangs. Right. She knew that. “Lachris can be demanding.”

“Are you alright?” Vette wasn't really sure why she was asking, but she just knew she had to.

Drahgur chuckled. “If you want recommendations as to whether or not I'm worth it- well, I'm sad to say you're not my type.”

She scowled. “That's not what I meant.”

His eyes flickered towards her neck, likely checking for a slave collar. It made her throat itch. He looked out over the bar, waving for a drink. His tone was still cordial, though much of its bright joviality was tamped down. “I'm fine.”

She would take it. At least he hadn't laughed in her face for bothering. “I'm Vette.”

“Well Vette, can I get you something?”  
  


Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you said I wasn't your type.”

He sounded mildly surprised, as if he had no idea why she would think that was where his mind was going. “We can still be friends, can't we?”

His nervousness back at Lachris' office. Was he trying to get on her good side? _Why?_ “You know Hara.” She had suspected, but now was her chance to get a confirmation.

Drahgur's brow rose at the nickname, but he didn't seem particularly startled by her familiarity. “Yes, I know her. I'll try not to be offended she didn't mention me, I know little Nita isn't particularly talkative.”

Nita? And _little?_ “Uh huh.” Most of her wanted to tell him to fuck off, but another part of her really wanted him to keep talking. To speak to someone else who knew Hara, to learn something about her, even just an opinion. It was a heady feeling, one she wasn't sure how to place. After her tormented vision (horrific fucking jumble of nightmare memories) when they confronted the Jedi, it was a feeling she was desperate for. The drinking hadn't helped so far, but the evening was just getting started.

“Look, I can tell when I'm not wanted.” Two drinks had appeared in his hands. Apparently he got decent service, at least for now. Helping the Empire out was apparently good for something. He pushed one towards her. “Just let her know my business here isn't connected to her mother. I do have other ways of making a living.”

Vette struggled to sit still for a lot of reasons, mostly boredom, on Vaiken, she had been restless because of the thousand peering eyes that seemed to promise death. She had stilled when she'd ask, _and what about your mom?_

Still alive. A coarse collection of syllables. Not particularly talkative, yeah Drahgur had probably had to have more than one conversation with Hara before.

“Friends buy friends more than one drink,” she spoke quickly. She wanted him to stay, she wanted him to _talk._

He smirked at her. “Another time, perhaps.”

She had been too eager. Bastard knew he now had something she wanted.

Drahgur pushed his way through the crowd without much problem, but Vette had to use elbows to get herself and her drink back to her table. The freighter captains were staring at her when she arrived, and her shoulders slumped. Not at her. Behind her. Perhaps Drahgur had another reason for his hasty retreat. She turned around to see Hara. How someone that big could be that quiet was beyond her.

“Hey. Fimsiwork all done?” Or whatever it was she and the lieutenant had to do. The sooner they got off this rock, the better.

“The reports are sorted.”

“Good.” Vette threw back the drink and nearly choked herself. Apparently Drahgur had expensive taste, or the Imperials were more grateful for his help than she had first concluded. She didn't think they even had access to stuff like that here. Eyes stinging a bit, she set her now empty glass on the table. She nodded to the captains before turning back to Hara. “Hangar bay?”

She had gotten her feet back before Hara had seen how badly she had been shaken by what had happened to her. They hadn't spoken a word to each other about her sudden flight from the space port. Vette wasn't sure what there was to say. _Was it you_ coiled in the back of her throat, but she couldn't bring herself to ask, not yet.

Hara was frowning. “You don't have to come.”

Vette had told herself that the other day, and she _knew_ it was true, but there was something about hearing it again. Something about the zabraks right behind her, the options so clear on the table, that was nice. She shrugged, strangely feeling a bit lighter. _My business here isn't connected to her mother._ She'd pass along the message. Later. “Hey, we're still partners, right?”

“Of course.”

* * *

“I hope this opportunity is not lost on you.”

Malavai gave his assurances and bowed, not bothering to straighten back up until the holo of Darth Baras flickered out and the call disconnected. That had hopefully been the last official communication he had to take from his quarters on Balmorra.

He hadn't been expecting the Darth to call on him again privately. Baras requesting complete reports be sent to him before his new posting was made, as if Malavai would abandon the work that had been assigned to him, was a touch insulting. His parting comment had been somewhat surprising, but he knew that after all the years in his service, Baras was within his rights to expect something of a return on his investment.

If only he could believe that was all that comment was.

His promotion was well worth this mission's efforts, but the option to pick his next assignment was a silken noose. Should he make the wrong choice, Malavai was certain his transport would never reach its destination, not with him still aboard. Not still breathing, anyway.

Knowing too much was as dangerous as not knowing enough. He was never supposed to know that Rylon had worked for Baras.

Malavai had two viable options. One, request transfer to an office on Dromund Kaas under Darth Baras directly. Continue his show of support and loyalty from up close, where he could be monitored and his analytical skills could be put to use. It would be risky, he would essentially be asking for an extension of the trust that the Darth had been forced to give him when he overheard the conversation between Rylon and Hara'nitra. Baras clearly had his own reasons for keeping him in the dark on the matter, and while putting himself directly at the man's mercy was a show of good faith, that did not mean the Darth would be inclined towards leniency.

Two, request a transfer to Hara'nitra's crew and continue his show of loyalty by only taking the information granted him that the apprentice deemed of note. He would still be well within the sphere of the Darth's influence, but not be requesting more than the station that had been given to him. He had already been chosen to support her in the past, after all.

Malavai had been trained and deployed during wartime. He had been in custody for his court martial when the treaty had been signed. He knew he was hardly the only soldier to ever struggle with the concept of peace time, but to learn of the end of the war after the fact had always left him feeling a step behind.

He was supposed to serve the Empire.

He did serve. Gladly.

He needed to be out in the galaxy, doing what was best for those he had sworn himself to.

Being able to join her crew should be a privilege, particularly after all she had accomplished here. There was of course one particular caveat to the idea. When he had decided to have sex with her, he had been under the impression they would be going their separate ways. Would she take his request the wrong way? She had conducted herself so professionally around him, surely she would respond to the earnest portion of his pledge?

She had shown no indication that anything had transpired between them after taking down the Jedi investigator. What if that meant she was determined to shed him off and leave him here? If she refused him, at least he still had the option of attempting to submit himself into Baras' direct service. Would the attempt be a mark in favor for keeping him, or another reason to see him removed? His master had been pleased with the work he had done for him on Balmorra through the years, surely some part of his promotion was a mark of favor and not a test? Rylon being offered a discrete death was apparently what his years of service had been worth.

Her ship was still in the hangar bay. Apparently the orders for resupply and fueling had been put off. For some time. If she accepted him, such behavior would have to be accounted for. Though simply presenting the face of a human officer was likely to mitigate most of it.

He waited. Attempting to contact her via holo seemed... presumptuous. He would need to avoid that, until things were more clear on where they stood with each other. He was certain he could stay professional, and she had proved herself well in that regard as well. There was no reason he had to approach this as if it were any other assignment, particular because he knew it wouldn't be.

The stims he had taken that morning in order to make sure he was cognizant enough to provide adequate support were wearing off. Had been, for some time. The aches left in his body weren't entirely unpleasant, but Malavai knew the odds him requiring a sleep aide while he finished recovering were high. There had been remarkably little physical evidence on him aside from the smears of lipstick he had washed off, but he still felt her under his skin. At least his brief foray 'into the field' when he had gone to assist Hara'nitra could account for his taking the stims should anyone review his medical file.

His mind might have been a bit sluggish, but he had plenty of time to stand to attention when he heard Hara'nitra's approach from across the hangar.

Vette eyed him warily. Whatever strange episode that had her collapsed in the space port seemed in the past. He had little time to examine her when pursuing the Jedi investigator, though now he supposed he might have to start accounting for the possibility of her cracking under pressure in the field. He didn't need to begin such assessments until he was aware of his posting, though.

Malavai kept his focus on Hara'nitra when he spoke. She did not seem suspicious of his presence, nor did she express much interest. That seemed common with her, when there wasn't a concrete task to be discussed.

He knelt. A sign of deference he knew had been sorely lacking towards her since she had come here.

She was already familiar with his skill set, she was already familiar enough with _him,_ but this was a statement of something else. He needed to establish exactly what kind of services he could grant, would be willing to grant, if she was to take them on. He was here as a solider of the Empire.

She stepped forward and placed her hand on top of his head. Given his position, that put his face nearly level with the bite marks he had left on her thighs. They were out of view, beneath her robe, armor, and under suit, but he could _see_ them. Had he miscalculated his own convictions, or was this simply something that would fade in time, like the lingering soreness of his muscles?

“I accept your services, Captain. Be ready to depart.” Her hand dropped from his head, and he reminded himself it was dangerous to miss the weight.

“At once, my lord.”

He could transmit the paperwork while in transit, and it would take but a moment to collect his things to be brought aboard. This was the better scenario, and unless Baras found reason to be truly angry with him, Malavai was reasonably certain of his ability to stay at his new post. He would be doing his best early on to figure a way to erase any doubts, bring himself closer to an absolute.  
  


The protocol droid waiting on the other end of the hatch stood to attention upon their arrival. Its chassis bore several weld lines that were distinctly unmatched to the model Malavai recognized it as. In other words, someone had modified the droid, and he doubted it had been done within factory guidelines.

Then the thing chirped at him.

Malavai kept himself collected, even as it started making repetitious squeaking sounds as if one of the tension bands inside of it was skipping. He could feel Vette grinning as she walked passed him.

“We missed you too, Toovee!” Her smile was nothing short of malicious as she looked back at him.

Perhaps his display in the hanger bay had elicited some sort of jealousy in the twi'lek. He could live with that, happily.

Hara'nitra clicked at the droid, and the horrendous squeaking noise stopped. The unit clicked back at her. If he were to truly be in operational control of the ship, Malavai would have to learn whatever horrendous dialect it was using, and quickly, even if just to update the translation programs in his earpiece.

She began to walk past him, and the distant clanging of a hatch told him Vette was out of earshot.

“My lord, if I may have a moment.”  
  
  
She turned to face him. "Captain?"  
  
  
It would prevent him from settling in if he did not get the words out now. Getting accepted to her crew was just one of the hurdles he currently had to deal with. "I felt there was a matter that should be addressed before we were underway." With Vette not around, he did not need to be quite so circumspect in his phrasing. Still, given his new position as her subordinate, he would need to be careful.  
  
  
She tilted her head to the side, acknowledging him.  
  
  
"I did not do what I did with the expectation that I would be promoted." He trusted she would understand what he meant, despite it being an undertaking which had required both of them.

“I know.” She smiled, or he thought she smiled, by the timbre of her voice. “You aren't ignorant of Sobrik's treatment of me. The Imperial military elsewhere feels the same, I am hardly in a position to grant you anything.”

The military might not have done much for her here, but Baras had requested her own assessment of him, and the Darth had pull. She had been accurate in her appraisal, and given his skills, that could be read as a kindness. Apparently she did not think her own opinion carried much weight with her master. Considering what had been said to him during his own conference with the Darth, he suspected she was right in that assumption. “Ah, as you say, my lord.”

“You are familiar with the ship's design. Settle in, Captain.”

“At once, my lord.”

She continued inside before he finished bowing, and the Toovee unit chirped at him before following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do something genuinely nice for Vette at some point. Hopefully.
> 
> I do like the unaddressed ambiguity in the game of whether or not Quinn ever wanted to be on your crew in the first place. I feel like a lot of fanfic just rolls with 'Baras put him there to spy on you' and I like to think there was a bit more going on. I also feel like it is sort of Schroedinger's video game choice, in that depending on how you acted to him that likely influenced whether he had to be ordered to show up in your hangar bay or was genuinely interested.


	6. Operational Procedure

Malavai had promptly secured their final necessities for getting off Balmorra, a task which he was certain he was more eager for than the other members of the ship's current crew. Vette was in the cockpit with him, though that had less to do with enthusiasm for their departure and more to do with the fact she had previously been the one to pilot the ship. He was trying to complete going over the ship register with her to make sure of the information on it was as correct as possible before he took over future responsibilities, a task to which she seemed to have little care.

This was going to be important for when they docked in other ports to avoid issues that weren't going to be related to Imperial reluctance to furnish an alien run ship. He contemplated the benefit of taking a new stim in order to make it through the conversation.

“There's a pending marked on the ship designation-”

“Oh, yeah, ignore that. We never did all the paperwork on it. I was pretty sure no Imperial deck crew would let-” And here Vette gave an awkward whistle. “-be put on the side of a ship. Plus, I couldn't figure out how to spell it.”

“I see.”

“It was-” Hara'nitra gave a sharp, lilting whistle from the hatchway.

Vette jumped in the co-pilot's seat, but Malavai prided himself on keeping still. He'd gone completely tense and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the sound she had made, but at least he hadn't notably flinched. She had only used her perfect Kaasian accent when communicating with Baras that they were underway, and in fact had spent much of the time since coming aboard speaking with the Toovee unit in the odd language. He turned to face her and give a half-bow, while Vette clutched her vest to her chest, overplaying the drama of being startled.

  
“My lord, we were just-”

“Announce yourself next time Hara, _fuck._ ”

Malavai bit back a sigh and ploughed ahead. “-we were just concluding going over the ship's register. Was there a designation you wished me to input?”

Vette slung one leg over the arm of the chair and turned her body sideways so she could face both of them without getting up. Malavai could think of ten violations for what she was doing that didn't have to do with her being onboard in the first place. “What's Basic for what you just said?”

“The simplest translation would be 'that which is strong enough to move in the heavy depths below the light and change the tides'.”

At least he now had a good guess as to what languages to look into in order to learn what she was speaking. Though why she was so well versed in an aquatic dialect was its own mystery. It would explain why he had been unable to place her unaffected accent. Many aquatic species couldn't physically speak Basic.

“If you have to make the print really small, I don't think it's worth it to have it on the side of the ship.” Vette shrugged. “You don't want people busting out their scopes just to see our name, no matter how awesome.”

Given the size of space 'scopes' weren't exactly used to identify vessels, transponder signatures and drive radiation were considerably more reliable than whatever someone had elected to paint on the side. Still, he doubted an official register would let him fill that in for what was essentially a military vessel. “Would 'Leviathan' be a suitable substitution, my lord?”

Her head tilted to the side a fraction as she considered it. “Yes.”

He made the note on the datapad, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the print on the screen. The change would go out in the same data burst that confirmed his promotion and transfer.

Vette stretched her arms back and over her head, fingers nearly smacking into the control panel behind her. “We done yet?”

He had already updated their inventory log (something which he noted had not been updated since well before he had even received word from Baras that they would be arriving on Balmorra) and he already had the necessary command codes to access the vessel. The ship was officially registered as property of the Darth, and given Hara'nitra's status as apprentice, that wasn't unusual, there would be records of its lease somewhere in the databanks. If there were any further issues with the register he would find out when the confirmation for the designation change came back. “Yes.”

“Finally!” She was upright in an instant, hands reaching for the ship controls. “Nar Shada, here we come.”

Apparently she was more eager than he realized, but her general exuberance was difficult to see through. Whatever his own desire for leaving was, he still scowled at her. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, getting off this rock? What? Am I not allowed to touch anything anymore?” She stared him in the eye and dragged her hands across the control panel, somehow not setting anything off.

He definitely should have taken another stim. “I have been put in charge of-”

“Ugh, Hara, tell him to let us leave already.” She slouched back in the co-pilot's seat.

“A task for which I have been underway for some time. What exactly is your role on this vessel?” He most certainly didn't want her up here with him at all hours.

His question apparently struck a nerve, for she suddenly stilled, hand tightening on the arm of her seat. Whatever duties she once performed he was more than capable of taking over. Perhaps she was superfluous. They could get rid of her at Nar Shada, the extra money could go towards upgrading their engines. Though Malavai was still uncertain if she was a slave or not. It likely wouldn't matter on a place run by the Hutts.

“Vette works with me.”

“I... see, my lord.”

“Yup.” She jumped up from the co-pilot's seat and bounced over to Hara'nitra's side, leaning into her personal space, but seeming to take care not to touch her directly. “We're business partners. Say, Hara, if he works for you, does that mean he works for me?”

Malavai summoned up the same force of will that kept him from jumping when Hara'nitra first announced herself with her odd whistle. What if she actually expected him to take orders from the twi'lek?

“The Captain is a member of the Imperial military.”

That was about as useful as being told Vette worked with her, but the twi'lek seemed to interpret it the way he had: they aren't your problem, don't bother them. Though he suspected the 'don't bother' was going to be a command with a limited reprieve.

Vette shrugged, sliding past her and out the hatch. “Whatever. I'm going to go check on Toovee.”

Malavai didn't sigh in relief though he felt his shoulders relax a little. “I will get clearance and we will be underway immediately, my lord.”

“I've never been to Nar Shada.”

“It is run by the Hutts. Most stories about such places are unfortunately true.” Given the Hutt's neutrality in the war, Malavai had only ever gone through their space during that time on ships that needed refueling before heading out to more important fronts.

“Vette likes to tell stories.” With that, she turned and finally followed the twi'lek out of the cockpit.

It took Malavai a moment to take a seat in the pilot's chair and begin to get them properly underway. It wasn't because he wanted a moment to relish finally leaving Balmorra, but because he had to remind himself he had made the decision which was about to result in him being on board this ship for the foreseeable future. He also had to double check everything he was doing, as when he had administered that stim for himself in the morning he hadn't been planning on piloting a ship later that day.

His worries over what was to come were put somewhat at ease when he brought the ship up through the atmosphere, as if he was physically shedding off the planet and the years he had lost there. He would not waste this opportunity, this second chance. He was going to make a difference for the Empire, even accounting for peculiar Sith and annoying twi'leks.

Once he had a full night's rest he was certain things would not seem so... tremulous.

* * *

Vette settled on the bench in the common area, datapad on the table running in diagnostic mode. Toovee was running fine, though she would have to double check with Hara that its new language parameters were holding up. She still needed to figure out how she had erased all the old ones in the first place, but as things stood, they weren't currently necessary for the droid's current functions.

She looked up as Hara entered the space, leaving the captain to handle their take off. Vette couldn't say she understood why Hara had brought him on board. Or perhaps she just didn't want to. If she continued to end up in the middle of military matters, Vette supposed having a member of the military on board made a certain amount of sense. Did it have to be an absolute asshole though? She had thought him benign on Balmorra, but having him aboard the ship- the _Leviathan-_ (and damn him for making sense of some of the weird shit Hara said so quickly) very rapidly accentuated all his dickish tendencies. She'd also been close enough to watch his sluggish pupils attempt to compensate going between datapads and the ship's computer. Stars knew she probably would have drowned in something if she had to stay on Balmorra a minute longer, but that didn't mean she had to give the man any sympathy for his poor choices.

She'd been here first, and sure, she didn't know much about ship maintenance, but she had been doing alright. Figuring things out as she went along had pretty much been how Vette lived her life. She had just been piloting since Hara couldn't, and most of her time aboard the ship had been spent rebuilding Toovee for Hara's use. Now that piloting and the droid were off her plate, the obnoxious question of 'her function aboard this vessel' wasn't as clear cut as she would have liked.

She poked at the datapad, but the program still hadn't finished running. Tapping at the load bar didn't make it move any faster, but it made her feel like she was doing something at least.

She still needed to tell Hara the message Draghur had given her, but with Captain Stim onboard she wanted to hold on to the information all the tighter. They were going to Nar Shada, if Quinn somehow made things unbearable, at least she had people there she could return to. Hopefully. So long as Cada Bliss hadn't gotten to them too. Surely once she failed to check in they would have gone to ground? She drummed her fingers on the table.

“Hey, Hara.”

The Sith dropped herself on to the bench on the other side of the table. A clear enough indication that she was listening.

“I need to- I want to look for my old gang when we land.”

“You've talked about them before.”

“Yeah, they're... they're family. I need to make sure that they're alright.” Most of the stories she had told while she worked on Toovee had been about them. She had initially worried about talking so much about people she cared about to a Sith, but Hara had never held any of it against her.

“Certainly. Do you require my assistance?”

That question suddenly made Vette feel intensely guilty. “No, no I mean, you've never been to Nar Shada, right?”

“No.”

“I mean, if I need to scare the shit out of someone I'll take you along, but most of my contacts there are friends.” Like the fantasy about setting Hara loose on Ryloth, Vette wasn't sure what kind of outcome setting Hara loose on gangs she didn't like would be. Immediately satisfying, sure, but how many people would get hurt in the process? And not just ones who deserved it? “And uh, since we're already talking about friends, your uh... buddy Drahgur talked to me at the cantina.”

“Drahgur told you he was my friend?”

That was what she was interested in? Maybe the message wasn't as serious as the cathar made it sound. “Well, no, but he said you knew him?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh. He wanted me to give you a message.” Vette looked back at the datapad on the table. Still not done. No excuses to suddenly back out now. She took a deep breath and then forced the words out in a rush. “He said he wasn't on Balmorra because of your mom.”

Hara frowned. “I didn't think he was.”

“Well that's... good? The guy seemed to think you might be out to hurt him.”

“I have done so in the past as a result of his work.”

“Not a fan of bounty hunters?” She really wasn't going to have a good time on Nar Shada if that was the case.

“I am not a… fan, of kidnappers.”

So Drahgur was the bring them in alive sort, and the dead Jedi was the exception to his normal rule. Vette was never sure if those types were more dangerous than the ones who killed their targets. You had to be particularly sure of yourself if you thought you could hold on to criminals who had eluded and escaped everyone else's type of justice.

The captain's voice suddenly came through the intercom, letting them know they would be making the jump into hyperspace. Vette sat up straight at the interruption, glowering at the walls. “Well I suppose now we can see if he really is a capable pilot, or if we're going to break into pieces.” Not that Vette was willing to die to laugh at someone else's mistakes, but a part of her hoped he did slip up.

“You did not seem so concerned about him on Balmorra.”

“Yeah well, he was on Balmorra then.” So far the only Imperial who was even slightly okay in her book was Hara. “Now, I have to look at him all the time.”

“Is he displeasing to look at?”

“You'll have to ask Toovee.” Attractiveness wasn't really Vette's area of expertise.

“I will.”

Vette nearly laughed at that. To get an accurate picture, Hara would probably end up asking the droid while Quinn was in the room, and since he clearly did not have a translation program available, would have no idea what was being discussed. “Also, I think he's an addict.”

Hara laughed at that and Vette wasn't sure about letting her know she was being completely serious. She looked down at the datapad. The diagnostic had finished running. If she ran it again it would buy her five more minutes of feeling useful.

Since when did she need to be useful? Well, apart from the whole 'I might die if you don't take me with you' bargaining she had done on Korriban nearly two months ago. Not that Hara had seemed to realize that was what that was. _Partners_. “You want me here, right?” She spoke before she could really think it through. Hara had been remarkably accommodating about letting Vette know she could leave, but she hadn't ever explicitly said she wanted her to stay either.

“Of course. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.”

She raised her brow at that declaration. Sure, they had run into a bit of trouble on Dromund Kaas, but nothing that serious. “I think you're selling yourself a bit short there, Ms. Sith.”

“Vette, I would never have been given this ship if you weren't with me.”

Oh. She wasn't talking life or death. That made more sense.

“I thought... you wanted to see other planets.”

Her question on Korriban had been utterly serious. Why had a Sith been that determined to reach out to an utter stranger? “I do.” Preferably non-Imperial ones, but they were getting there. “I just didn't think you really needed me around for that.”

“You've been my eyes, and the way you explain the world... It has been a long time since I heard someone be that enthusiastic about something and they weren't trying to kill me.”

Fucking kriff, that was depressing. Hara had a tiny apartment on Dromund Kaas, and she had left Vette there whenever she had to travel into the Citadel to speak with Baras. She hadn't thought it was a place to take her, and honestly Vette wasn't sure she wanted to be in the middle of the beating heart of Sith power, so she hadn't minded. When Vette had finally given in to her snooping impulses and looked around the flat, she had found absolutely nothing interesting, just a couch that could never have been new and far too many uncomfortable pillows. How alone had Hara been before she pulled Vette out of the rubble?

Vette swallowed thickly. “You keep talking like that, I might start blushing.” What was the galaxy coming to that she suddenly felt protective of a Sith? She had seen Hara do some pretty fucked up shit, and suddenly she was overcome with the need to hug her. What did that say about Vette? “Guess I'll just keep being me then, seems like a pretty good gig. Even with Captain Protocol on board.” She had never gone over a ship's register line by line unless she was forging it before.

Hara didn't seem to catch the mocking tone of her voice, for she just said, “He is very precise.”

Vette could grudgingly admit that for someone like Hara who had to line up all their canned food on the shelves in a particular order so that she would know what she was grabbing, having someone like Quinn on board might be useful. She would give the man a chance, so long as he didn't get high and crash the ship while she was on board.

“Well I think we've done enough barring our souls for now. Is your reader still working right?” Maybe Vette had a bigger role on this ship than she had realized. It was a good feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally get off Balmorra ! Hara finally says more than a few words at once ! Vette and Quinn both think the other is unreliable and unstable for different reasons ! I just think that's funny.


	7. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure I am the only person who is going to be significantly bothered by this, but I did have to change my completely arbitrary formatting of alternating character POV for this in order to maintain a linear timeline. I also use the word 'dialect' like it means 'language' even though it doesn't because Star Wars is one of those sci-fi universes where apparently a planet only has one culture and language which is just false, but since I did not want to come up with a crap ton of new made up language names, I decided to call them dialects and skip that process.
> 
> Also I'm pretty sure my time between updates is getting longer, but I'm pretty sure so are my chapters, so yay?

Malavai woke up slowly. The fading sound clung to his consciousness like a dream. He had gone with a mild pain killer rather than a proper sedative before going to bed. Even in hyperspace there was supposed to be someone monitoring the helm at all times. Given the size of the crew, and the fact that most of them weren't equip to handle that responsibility, Malavai had to make do with a significantly altered roster. He still needed to sleep at some point though, and had eventually consigned himself.

An alarm wasn't what had woken him though, either through the ship's emergency systems, or his own chrono telling him it was time for his shift. The XOs cabin was barely wider than his bunk, but it had a desk, a sink, and was private. The fact the environment was new after nearly a decade of the same barracks on Balmorra wasn't as disconcerting as he thought it could be. Malavai had always been something of a light sleeper, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the newness of his surroundings that had woken him.

Then he heard the sound again. Not from a dream then, though it seemed conjured from some ghost story that lower deck crewmen liked to spout when they weren't wiggling in access tunnels between groaning pipes. It was a high pitched wailing that seemed to echo in his skin, and he was absolutely positive he had never heard a starship make it before.

He was already up and pulling on his uniform before the conscious decision to do so reached his thoughts. The chrono said it was two hours until he needed to start his shift. That was three hours since he had gone to bed. It would be enough rest. So long as they didn't have to drop out of hyperspace in need of a tow and some repairs.

The lack of alarms wasn't a comfort when the noise sounded again. It was eerie, and while it did not scream _danger_ to his still somewhat sleep and drug muddled senses, it was deeply unsettling. His skin prickled beneath his uniform and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He exited his cabin and headed for the bridge. Once he had a clear clue as to what was going on, or had started a diagnostic, he would inform Hara'nitra. It got louder as he moved along his route, which he did not take for a good sign.

He heard the creak of a hatch down the hall, the crew quarters judging by the distance. While Malavai was loathe to rely on Vette for any kind of information regarding the ship after her lack luster performance with the logs, he could admit to himself she was more familiar with the vessel and might know what was going on. He didn't stop walking, but before he could call out to her, a very loud _bang_ rattled down the hall. It sounded like someone slamming a wrench against the deck plating.

It was Vette slamming a wrench against the deck plating. “Come _on._ ” Her voice was groggy with sleep, but piercing enough to carry the length of the ship. “Not while I'm sleeping. _Please._ ”

The noise stopped.

“ _Thank you_.” She sounded more annoyed than grateful.

The hatch creaked as it was slammed shut. The general hum of a functioning starship crept into the quiet.

What the fuck.

Malavai considered going down to the crew quarters to ask Vette what had just happened, but his eyes stayed on the path to the bridge. Steeling himself, he continued onward, determined to follow through with his plan of running a diagnostic on the ship.

He froze in the hatchway when he found Hara'nitra sitting in the captain's chair. Years of protocol being ingrained through drills had him taking the last step into the space so as not to block the entryway in case of emergency. Toovee was off in a corner, hunched and apparently powered down.

“My lord?”

“Did I wake you?”

That she was the source of the noise wasn't as surprising as he wanted it to be. Before he had gone to bed, he had done his research. The language she had been so easily conversing with the droid in was from Manaan. There were more common Selkath dialects used when communicating for trade with the Empire, Malavai had heard snippets of recordings of them from medical journals he kept up with. What she spoke was something a bit more obscure, a bastard patois between the amphibious dwellers on the planet and the more universally heard language of its traders. It was something someone lacking gills could produce.

Apparently she was also fluent in some of the planet's other dialects, though why she would pick up the deep ocean calls when she would be physically unable to produce them once submerged in water was beyond him.

He had the troubling notion that even with rest his lord would not make much sense.

“It was merely unexpected my lord, I will know to return to sleep in the future.”

From where he stood he could tell she was still draped in her purple robe, though he could not tell what was underneath it. Not that he needed to be dwelling on such things.

Silence fell between them, though he wouldn't call it awkward. Falling into quiet seemed quite normal for her, but it was still somewhat difficult not to read it as a sign of displeasure. Malavai had observed too many Sith during the war who were loud.

“If I may ask my lord, what were you saying?” He had found no available programs on the holonet that provided translation for the particular dialect she seemed to use. It left him with the distressing notion of having to rely on Vette for whatever program she used to understand Toovee, but since he had managed to avoid speaking to her this evening, perhaps he could find a way around that too.

“It's a song, calling young pods down from the warm shallows to head home.”

Singing. That eerie wail that had caused his hairs to stand on end was singing. It wasn't awful he supposed, just unnervingly alien. Almost like his first look at that fleshy mask she wore across her face.

“Do you sing often?” Vette had clearly heard it before, if her annoyance had been anything to go by. Perhaps Malavai could find a way to schedule himself to sleep whenever she wasn't in a musical mood.

“No.”

He supposed that was one less thing he would have to navigate around.

She sat at something of an angle, almost slouched in the captain's chair. The light of hyperspace travel cast strange shadows across her masked face, even from his limited view of her. What did she even see when she looked at it? How miralukas observed the world wasn't something he had cause to really consider before.

“I'm sorry to disturb you.” He instinctively bowed, prepared to back out of the bridge and head back to his quarters.

“You haven't.”

Did that mean she wanted him to stay? His hesitation gave her enough time to keep speaking.

“Is there a change of protocol concerning your posting on the ship? You used to speak your mind.”

It was said some Sith could read your thoughts, but surely if she was adept at such a thing she wouldn't be bothering to ask him? The thought still caused his heart to speed up a moment in his chest. “I answer to you, my lord. While I served your needs on Balmorra, I am now more directly at your disposal.” Not that the two of them still didn't answer to Baras, but now when she gave him an order he didn't have the option of ignoring it by claiming it was outside of what he had been tasked to do. Not that he had ever had to do that while working with her, she remained pleasantly goal focused while working towards removing Rylon. Of course, that didn't mean the part of him that was willing to ignore orders for the sake of the Empire had been utterly crushed during his decade banishment either. “It has merely been my goal to respect and maintain the chain of command. If it is your desire that I give counsel unprompted, I will. Know I will never seek to undermine your authority and will only do so when appropriate.”

“When is that?”

It took him a moment to realize her question was completely sincere. “When we are alone, my lord.”

“Acceptable.”

If they were to keep talking, he did not want to continue addressing the back of her head. He stepped up to her side, observing the streaking light of hyperspace a moment in the new silence before coughing gently. “If I may ask...”

“I believe that was the understanding we just reached. Unless you have another concern?”

“No, I was merely curious as to when you decided to learn Selkath.” Having an accurate portrait of her skill set would be important moving forward.

“I was born on Manaan, I don't think I ever really decided.” She sat up fully, head tapping against the high back of the seat, not turning towards him as she continued to speak. “Did you decide to learn Basic?”

“I... suppose not my lord.” The last part of him that hoped to return to bed finally quieted, the burning curiosity he now held for getting answers from her taking its place. Yet did he have the right to continue along this line of questioning? She had agreed to hear his professional assessment of her, and their talks on Balmorra had been all work. Well. Mostly. Did he run the risk of making her think he was interested in pursuing something by asking personal questions? It occurred to him then that while she had acknowledged he had not intended to gain a promotion out of sleeping with her, neither of them had brought up the idea of it not happening again. Had it only been a day ago? He could still feel her on his skin, but the memory seemed impossibly distant. He had done what he had done in large part due to the constraints on him at the time, but now that fucking planet was behind him, and she was still here.

“Selkath is a more sensible language.”

“I have not had leave to study it in any great detail.” Malavai figured everyone considered their native tongue the most sensible of languages, if only out of the simple notion that it was their first. It wasn't as if she seemed to have any particular struggle with Basic, though. Her ability to shore up her accent was honestly impressive, perhaps it had been a necessity born out of shame? Being considered an outsider in the Empire was no easy state to live in.

“Vette thinks it is odd to describe everything by pressure depths and currents, but I do not think she has ever seen an ocean before.”

“Though it has been a while since I have seen an ocean, that does seem a more sensible way for navigating when underwater.” The edge of his lip twitched, some strange comfort settling over him as the streaking lights from the view port continued their hypnotic pattern. He almost felt amused, though that might have been the creeping affects of sleep deprivation attempting to catch up with him.

Though it was hardly the reason he was up here in the first place, Malavai could not remember the last time he had stayed in someone's company just for the sake of enjoyment.

* * *

Even with the drinks she had at the bar, Vette couldn't sleep. It had been a long time since she couldn't just choke down the bad memories and get at least _some_ rest. Hara's singing definitely didn't help, but at least it had stopped quickly. Vette was pretty sure she had yelled at her. She wasn't sure if she would have done that if she wasn't so tired and so...

So, whatever the fuck was gnawing at her brain. When she had finished debugging Hara's reader and double checking Toovee's new software, her brain had too much quiet in it. Too much space for old things to come bobbing up to the surface. She hadn't thought about her mother in a long time. Well, she had thought about her in an abstract way, sure, but she hadn't thought about the fuzzy memories she carried of her or their parting in any great detail for a long time. She blamed the Jedi for dredging it up, thought about blaming Hara, and then hated the Jedi even more. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to be back on Nar Shada already, hanging out with the old gang. They would understand. They wouldn't need to ask, they would just know. They would plan a heist, or just go to the bar, and it would be enough to forget for a while.

Vette pulled her blanket up over her head and then opened her eyes. Even the muted sleep cycle lighting in the crew quarters was too much right now. She considered running another diagnostic on the datapad, or cracking open Toovee and going for another round of tune ups, but that would mean admitting defeat and not trying to sleep. The blanket shield was supposed to be a reminder that it was time to sleep, that it was okay to sleep.

(That she was safe, that nothing was coming for her, that nothing would be able to get her here.

They had before.

They wouldn't again. Not this time.)

Vette reached up under her pillow and clutched at the screwdriver she had taken from the toolkit. She didn't have a knife and probably would have cut herself on one if she put it under a pillow anyway. She wasn't quite paranoid enough to sleep with her blaster under her lekku. They were on the gun belt, hanging on the back of the chair next to her bunk. She could jump up and grab them in short order, but the screwdriver was enough to help her close her eyes again. It was an old habit she had thought she had left behind, before being on Korriban motivated her to bring it back. Then Hara's quiet approach to everything had waned the need, until that kriffing Jedi slammed it all back full force.

Ugh. She was _not_ sleeping.

She pulled the blanket off her face and slowly let go of the screwdriver. Maybe she would go find Hara, and apologize for yelling at her. Not for asking her to stop singing, because stars it was so fucking weird to hear that come out of her mouth, but for the way she did it. Hara hadn't just had a shitty day, in fact, she had likely just had a great one, what with killing Jedi and being all Sith-y.

Groaning to herself, Vette slid off her bunk and headed out towards the cockpit. The soft murmur of voices didn't deter her from moving forward. Still, once there she groaned, loudly and clearly, at the sight of Quinn standing next to Hara. She slipped over to the other side of the captain's chair, leaning against it and tilting forward so she could look at both of them.

“We shoulda named this boat the _Insomniac's Tourguide._ ”

“I'm rested.” Hara said.

Quinn had definite circles under his eyes even in the low lighting, and didn't say anything.

Vette snorted. “Meditating only half counts, because of the amount of time spent sitting on your ass, but you are awake now.”

“I'm normally awake now.”

Vette had honestly never given Hara's sleeping patterns much thought. Since she was awake when Vette was awake, she generally assumed that meant she was asleep when she was asleep. She did retire to her quarters on the ship some days before Vette finished with her work, and the bed on Balmorra had seemed slept in, more so than just its original occupant's use of it would imply. She supposed she had never actually seen the woman sleep, so who knew what she got up to when alone.

“Alright, the rest of us need to reset our chronos then.”

For a moment there she would have sworn Quinn was smiling. Probably her imagination.

“We will have to acknowledge the time change when we reach Nar Shada,” was all Hara had to say.

Vette snorted again. “Nar Shada never sleeps, don't worry about that. Whatever the local time when we arrive, it wont make much of a difference.”

“If we are meeting with one of Lord Baras's agents, we will need to account for their schedule.”

So Quinn hadn't ended up mute during the sleep cycle. Pity. Vette rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Her eyes settled on where Toovee was, hoping the droid was recharging and not busted. “Were you teaching Toove some flight language?”

“No. They are just more efficient than the reader when going over correspondence that includes holo recordings.”

Well that was something to think over, Vette could have a programming problem to chew on rather than her lack of sleep. Perfect. What was her role aboard this vessel? More interesting that Captain Schedule's, that was for sure. “I guess I was thinking too much about letting the reader talk to info terminals, I totally didn't give it parameters for talking to projectors. I'll start writing up some code tomorrow. Probably just use another spare datapad, so I don't fuck up what you already have by accident.”

Quinn's head had cocked to the side as he listened to Vette ramble, and his eyes had eventually settled on Hara though he had seemed determined to look elsewhere for a moment.

“Could test things out on some junk mail, nothing says good programming like surviving spam code...” Vette let her sentence trail off as she watched him, and a grin cracked her face. “Holy _shit._ ”

He looked at her then, wary.

“You didn't realize.”

His straight posture went absolutely rigid.

“You're just like all those other dumb asses! You had no idea.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. Vette kept grinning back at him, curious to see what mister 'I'm not too proud to admit when I'm wrong' would do in this situation. Sure, this was totally oblivious and not wrong, but it was still entertaining to watch him flounder.

Hara tilted her head to the side, though Vette wasn't sure if she was just waiting for Vette to finish her plans for tomorrow or for Quinn to come up with an answer. She didn't ever seem to hold anyone accountable for realizing what was going on with her, which Vette found kind of stupid. Someone should be told they were dumb if they were too dumb to realize-

“She is correct, my lord. During your time on Balmorra, while presenting strategies to you, I did not account for your blindness.” Quinn broke eye contact with Vette, apparently his pride had its limits.

Vette could almost respect him for his admittance of that fact, if she weren't planning on lording it over him until the day he died. She bounced on her toes, considering if her mood was improved enough to try sleeping again. Nah. She was way too giddy now.

“Very few people do,” Hara said.

Vette dropped back down on to her heels, not needing to look over at Quinn to know that he was stewing in the knowledge that _she_ had, while he hadn't. “What's it like, anyway? I never really asked. I mean, you know where stuff is.” She understood that having a droid that translated things through Selkath helped Hara know what was around her, as it was the type of language where when you said 'over there', the meaning of 'there' changed depending on where you meant, but how she knew anything was there to begin with was beyond her. She had pulled Vette out of rubble after all, and known she wasn't just one of the many klor slugs in the area.

“Not many people ask.” Hara sounded... well, about as close to surprised as Vette was willing to bet she would ever sound. “I don't know if it will make sense.”

“It's the middle of the night. Er. Sleep cycle. That's when everything makes sense.”

“The Force is a part of everything.”

Oh right. It was going to be one of those kinds of explanations. She looked from the corner of her eye to see how much attention Quinn was paying, but his eyes were forward and his expression seemed determinedly blank.

“I don't see, I know things are there because they are part of the Force. I feel them.”

“ _Feel_ them?” Vette honestly hadn't meant to say that out loud, but this conversation was rapidly going somewhere she didn't think she was going to like.

“Yes.”

“Like heat?” Quinn asked. Judging from the slight strain in his voice, he was either waiting to get called a dumb ass for being a dumb ass, or he didn't like where this conversation was going either.

“Temperature is different. You are organs, like skin, and then there are your bones, and you describe your bones as _inside_ your body but I feel them just the same. Rooms. People talk of rooms in space as if they are separate from their walls, but they feel the same.”

“I... see my lord.”

Vette didn't, but she really didn't want Hara to try and keep explaining things by using the word 'organs' anymore.

“I don't feel light. Screens are on or off, I can feel the current of power traveling to them. But I don't know what's on them, or projected.”

“Is everything distinct from each other?” Apparently Quinn was more curious than weirded out.

Vette's cloud of smugness was pretty deflated at this point, but she didn't want to leave the conversation until the captain did.

“No. But when I am familiar things are easier to determine where they fit and do not fit. I can also focus on one thing to know it better, but then I wont know anything else. I have heard... like closing your eyes to listen better.”

“Do you know where all our parts are?” Vette asked, words almost sticking in her throat.

She saw Quinn's head turned sharply at that, though if he was looking towards Hara or her, she wasn't sure.

“Yes. On this ship, it is familiar. I can always feel where you are.”

Sure, there was nowhere to go on a spaceship but out into space, but Vette had rather enjoyed her apparent delusion of privacy whenever she was alone in a room. Why had Hara bothered hanging out with her during their travel to Balmorra in the first place if she was aware of where she was at all times anyway? Or had she still been figuring out what Vette felt like then? She didn't want the Force pressing up against her in any capacity, and didn't like thinking about the idea of it giving her away to anyone.

“Does that make sense?” Hara asked.

Vette really fucking hoped she had misinterpreted everything she had just heard.

“I believe so, my lord.” Quinn sounded subdued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Long world building note ahead.
> 
> I don't mean to paint Quinn as a total dumb ass for working with Hara for a month and not realizing she's blind in the process, just that through him I am expressing my thoughts on how I think Imperial society views disabilities. In that, I think anytime someone does not function within the parameters the Empire expects them to, they correct them. Cybernetics, prosthesis, I think they actually have a decent healthcare for their people and fix you up no matter what- except the no matter what part comes into play. Meaning if there is anything about you that means you can't be a functional solider in their army, they make sure you fit that mold regardless. Which no. Bad ethics there. I just don't think Quinn has ever had to work with someone who can't see before, because why wouldn't they have a visor/implants that let them? Hara has also done quite a bit, particularly with Vette's help more recently, to get through Imperial life without having to bring it up.
> 
> Now, I get why in game miralukans can't be functionally different than other species, but I always thought it was dumb lore wise that you've got this eyeless species that sees through the Force and they see... everything the same except the Force instead of eyes is how they see. So I chucked that right out the window, and it was actually a really interesting post on tumblr about a fourth dimensional Superman that finally helped me narrow down how I wanted Force sight for them as a species to work. So basically Hara views the universe in 4D, inside and out at the same time, but there is no light and colors are other peoples' concepts.
> 
> Hara and Toovee are 100% making dolphin noises at each other. Though a friend of mine did bring it to my attention that sperm whales also communicate through clicks, so some of those noises are definitely in the running now. Its just that those whistling clacks that dolphins make with that 'ee ee ee' was definitely what was on my brain when I started this fic. For assorted story reasons, I knew Hara was from Manaan well before I had decided how her Force sight worked, but when I finally settled on that, it was serendipity. Because why wouldn't an aquatic species have a language that reflected their environment? That inherently described things by the pressure they exert on the water around them and the change they bring to the currents? Toovee's most useful function to Hara is describing holo images to her in a language that describes things in the most 3D/4D compatible way possible so that she knows what she's 'looking' at, whenever a projection is up, as on its own it lacks the substance needed to register to her.


End file.
